


Secrets, Santa, and Spiked Eggnog

by SSAEmilyHotchner



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSAEmilyHotchner/pseuds/SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. When the BAU's budget is cut and holiday festivities are threatened, Garcia swoops in with an idea to save the day and mend some hearts: Secret Santa. Naughtiness ensues. Written for TigerLily888's 'Hooking Up at the Office Christmas Party' prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets, Santa, and Spiked Eggnog

"Okay, okay!" Garcia exclaimed, bustling into the conference room with a basket full of slips of paper in her hand. "Attention, everyone." Her eyes narrowed as Rossi and Morgan continued chattering away about football. "Attention!"

Everyone's gazes snapped up to hers.

"Thank you," the boisterous technical analyst said serenely, her voice in stark contrast to the tone it had previously adopted. "You're all probably wondering why I gathered you together in the middle of a boring Monday afternoon. No, we don't have a case." JJ visibly relaxed. "But, I do have some news to share."

Hotch looked up from his hands. "What is it, Garcia?"

"Well, sir, as you all know because of an email that was sent out…oh, seven minutes ago, our annual Christmas party can no longer be held in the ballroom of the Four Seasons because of budget cuts. Instead of completely not having a Christmas party - because really, where's the fun in that? - I talked to Strauss and she gave us the green light to have a party of our own…here. In the conference room, in the offices, in the bullpen, wherever." Garcia raised a hand as the team began talking amongst themselves in outrage. "I know, I know. It sucks, because there's no way we can make the bullpen even nearly as swanky as the Four Seasons. But," she emphasized once more, "I came up with a fun little idea."

Reid looked at her cautiously. Her definition of fun and his definition of fun were more often than not on the opposite sides of the spectrum. "Which is…?"

"Secret Santa!" she burst out, unable to contain her excitement. "What better way to spread Christmas spirit? You all know the rules; you pick a name," she waved her basket, "buy the person whose name you drew two or three nice presents, wrap them, make them pretty, and then leave it on your person's desk and let them guess who you are." Looking around the table, she sobered up a bit as her gaze met that of her Unit Chief. "Sir…we can do this, right?"

Hotch cleared his throat. "I'd have preferred you coming to speak to me before visiting Strauss," he said seriously, watching as Garcia's face paled, "but only because no one should have to endure her wrath. You've gone ahead and put so much work into these ideas of yours…so, who am I to say no?"

Slowly, Garcia mustered up a full-blown grin. Even Hotch was in the Christmas spirit? "Excellent!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. Then she clapped her hands together, shooting Emily a dangerous look as she laughed at the blonde's ecstatic behavior. "So, everyone, pick a name," she ordered, placing the basket in the middle of the round table. "Pick a name and do not, under any circumstances, tell anyone else who you have." She watched with arms crossed over her chest as everyone drew out a name.

Emily unfolded her piece of paper, a small smile curving her full red lips as she read the name written in Garcia's telltale scrawl.

Aaron Hotchner.

She couldn't help it; her heart skipped a little beat as her mind immediately went to work formulating ideas of what to get him. Little did she know, Hotch was gazing intently at the name on his slip of paper as well. Shooting Emily a glance when he was sure she wasn't looking, Hotch smiled just a titch, before looking back down at the paper.

Emily Prentiss, it read.

Garcia smiled at the six team members gathered around her. "Now go forth and buy your gifts!"

~.~.~

Emily ran a hand through her silky hair in frustration. "What on earth can I get him?" she whispered to herself. She wanted his gift to be perfect; she wouldn't admit it under torture, but she had long housed feelings for her tall, dark, and handsome Unit Chief. Strong, unbridled, passionate feelings.

She internally slapped herself as she felt herself getting all worked up just by thinking of him seated at his desk. God, his hands…

"A tie," she finally said aloud, ignoring the strange looks she got from people passing by. "I'll get him a tie." Emily meandered over to the men's apparel section of the packed shopping mall, her mind racing with a multitude of possibilities. She spent a good forty-five minutes sifting through different colored ties before one caught her eye.

It was a deep midnight blue, with the thinnest of thin silver stripes running across its silken fabric. She didn't think he had one like it; no, he surely didn't, because she would remember if he had.

She remembered everything about him.

Picking a gold-tinted box to put the tie in, Emily put both tie and box in her shopping basket, then set off to find yet another gift.

"A tie, but what else?" she murmured, looking around for any ideas. "What else does he like?" she asked herself almost desperately.

~.~.~

Hotch looked at the expensive, heavy fountain pen he had picked out. He knew Emily appreciated fine stationary, but he couldn't just get her a pen. "What else does she like?" he mumbled, searching the store for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

He was paying for the fountain pen when a Godiva display stand by the register caught his eye.

"Chocolate," he said aloud, not noticing the nervous look the lady ringing up his purchase shot him. The serious looking man in the dark suit was talking to himself? "I'll get her chocolate."

And he did. He bought her the finest German chocolate he could find.

But it still wasn't enough. Sure, Garcia had said two to three gifts per person, but he desperately wanted this gift to be special. He'd never get another chance to communicate in some other way how special Emily was to him; he had to do it now, and it had to be perfect.

Exhausted from shopping, he flopped down onto a bench by the escalators, his head throbbing. It was only after he had rubbed his eyes and brought his gaze up to look around the department he was in that he realized what her last gift would have to be.

Looking back on the moment, Hotch would never fully understand what had gone through his mind when he decided to buy said last gift for her.

But that's exactly what he did.

~.~.~

From his office, Hotch watched as Emily threw her head back in effortless laughter, the action causing a multitude of loose ebony curls to tumble down her back. She looked gorgeous; she always did, but today, in that dress, she looked exceptionally so. She was wearing a figure-hugging evergreen dress that rode up her thighs when she walked. And God, her legs…so slender, so toned, so long.

If he hadn't yet had a foot fetish, he definitely developed one then, watching as she coyly let one sparkly champagne-colored heel dangle from her bare foot.

Shaking his head to clear it, Hotch turned his attention back to the array of gifts on his desk. Curiously, he carefully unwrapped the first, peeling away heavy silver wrapping paper to reveal a thick, leather-bound journal, monogrammed with his initials on the smooth front cover. He allowed himself a smile, before opening the next gift, the smallest box of all. Fingering the expensive silk tie and replacing the one he had previously been wearing with it, his smile grew imperceptibly as he knotted it around his neck.

It looked good. Really good.

Finally, he opened the last of the gifts, chuckling to himself as he saw what it was.

English toffee. His favorite.

Only two people on the team knew of his weakness for toffee…and somehow, he knew his secret gift giver wasn't Dave.

Besides, there was something about the tasteful choice in ties that just screamed Emily.

The smile still on his face, Hotch was about to exit his office and thank her when he glanced out of his window and saw her unwrapping her gifts.

Immediately, Hotch took in a deep nervous breath as his heart fell to his stomach.

Would she like it?

~.~.~

Emily toyed with the gold ribbon that was tied around the gifts on her desk. Glancing around the bullpen, she saw JJ and Reid deep in conversation, saw Dave handing out eggnog, saw Garcia and Morgan dancing to "All I Want For Christmas Is You"…

And Hotch?

Hotch was in his office, alone. Emily pursed her lips at the knowledge, shaking her head slightly at the man.

Curiosity finally getting the best of her, she undid the deep red wrapping paper of the smallest box, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise as she took in the charcoal grey and gold etched fountain pen. It was an interesting choice of gift; one she liked very much. Already, she knew her Secret Santa would be someone with sophisticated, impeccable taste…

…and someone who knew how to read her, inside and out.

Reaching for another gift, a smile blossomed on her face as she pulled back the wrapping paper, exposing a fairly large box of her favorite German chocolates. She couldn't help it; she opened the box and took a sample, her eyes falling closed as the exquisite taste exploded on her tongue.

Unbeknownst to her, Hotch felt his heart skip a beat at the beautiful smile stretching her lips.

Flipping over the last box curiously, Emily began undoing the tape binding the wrapping paper together. It was when she finally opened the box that her breath caught in the back of her throat.

Lingerie.

Her Secret Santa had gotten her lingerie.

And rather tasteful lingerie at that. It was made of lace and chiffon in the richest of reds, and was feather soft against her fingers. It wasn't that she'd have a plentitude of chances to wear it; no, not when her latest dry spell put the Sahara desert to shame. But still…

Emily had to know who her gift giver was. She knew she should feel even the slightest bit appalled…but she couldn't. Not when she was almost a hundred percent sure who her Secret Santa was.

Striding over to Morgan, Emily tapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at her, letting out a low wolf-whistle as he took in her appearance. "Well, damn. Don't you look fine. Want to dance?"

"Maybe later," she said, chuckling at his resulting wounded expression. "Who did you have for Secret Santa?"

"Rossi," Morgan answered, groaning slightly. "I tell you, that man is impossible to buy gifts for."

Emily snorted. "I can imagine." Glancing around the room for what had to be the hundredth time, she asked, "Do you know who the others had?"

"Hmmm." Morgan started counting off on his fingers. "I know Rossi had Garcia, Garcia had Reid, and JJ had me…who did you have?"

Emily nodded toward their boss's office. "I had Hotch."

"You had Hotch," he repeated, still thinking. "I don't know who Hotch or Reid had, though. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering," she shrugged off.

But she knew that Reid had JJ.

Which left Hotch.

Which meant…

~.~.~

Hotch looked up from his work as a knock resounded on his door. "Come in."

"Hey, Hotch."

The moment her husky voice met his ears, Hotch felt his heart stop. "E-Emily, hi," he managed, watching intently as she drew his blinds shut and locked his door. "I was actually just about to come down and thank you. For the gifts," he said, looking down at the tie he was already wearing. "I really appreciate it."

"It's not a problem," she replied coolly, smiling prettily. "I'm glad you like them. Though, I have to ask...how'd you know it was me?"

Hotch returned her smile at that, pulling out the box of English toffee that he'd already begun to snack from. "This gave it away. Only you and Dave know I love English toffee…that, coupled with the tie and the monogrammed journal…you really have excellent taste."

"Yeah?" He nodded, a bemused expression on his face. "Well…" Emily pulled out the red lace negligee, "so do you."

Immediately, his face fell, his eyes widening in pure shock. "Emily," he coughed, "why do you have a –"

"Don't pretend it wasn't you," she said lowly, her voice holding an undeniably sexy quality that never failed to haunt him in his dreams. Her gaze still on him, Emily couldn't help but feel gleefully empowered as she ran her fingers over the lace and chiffon.

He was speechless.

"How did you know?" she asked quietly. "Red's my favorite color."

Mine, too, Hotch thought, his mind reeling. Still, however, he put up a protest. "Y-you can't know for sure that your Secret Santa is me."

Emily let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, but I can. I'm a profiler, too, you know."

Hotch ran a hand over his face. He didn't know how they had gotten to this point; her standing before him, taking charge.

Dominating.

Oh, what a sight that would be. And what an experience.

Because Emily Prentiss was bound to be an experience. What with her dark hair, impossibly long lashes, pretty red pout…and curves in all the right places. He could just imagine what it would feel like to have her wrapped around him, hot, wet, and willing…and begging…

Blinking out of his lust-fazed state, Hotch cleared his throat. "Emily, I…I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking –"

"Sorry?" she interrupted, slowly sauntering forward. "Why would you be sorry? I never get lingerie as presents. First of all, when would I have the chance to show it off? Secondly, what lingerie I have is always wasted and ruined by cheap bastards who get a rise out of ripping it off me," Emily deadpanned, rolling her expressive brown eyes.

Hotch couldn't help the unadulterated jealousy that flooded his veins at her words. The sheer thought of another man touching Emily, his Emily…

Huh.

She wasn't even his, yet he felt so possessive of her.

What did it all mean?

Emily was a mere foot away from him now, and looked, if possible, even more enchanting now that he could really see her. Her smoky eye makeup gave her an inherently seductive look, and it took every ounce of Hotch's resolve to prevent from pulling her to him and take her right there, right there on his desk.

Emily seemed to be on the same wavelength as him, however, for her next move was to push his files to the floor and perch herself atop the dark, cherry wood bureau.

Hotch practically swallowed his tongue at the salacious look she shot him. "Are you drunk?" he wondered aloud, trying his hardest to avert his eyes from her spread-open legs.

Emily let out a giggle that set his nerves on fire. "Dave may or may not have spiked my eggnog with something a bit stronger," she murmured coyly, reaching forward and toying with his tie; the tie she had gotten for him.

What he didn't know was that she really wasn't drunk at all. After all, the Prentiss women could hold their liquor better than the men, something that Emily proved quite often.

Silence blanketed the room for a whole second before Emily leaned forward, baring her cleavage to his hungry gaze. "I want to put it to good use," she said, the negligee still in her hands. "But first, I want to know something, Hotch." She was so close that her breath was fanning out against his cheek. "Why'd you get it for me?"

"I-I don't know," he stuttered, internally rebuking himself for being so affected by her presence.

"Yes, you do," Emily coaxed. "Come on, Hotch…tell me." When she was met with silence, she boldly pressed her lips to his ear. "Did you want to see me in it?" she purred. "Is that it?"

Hotch closed his eyes, groaning in defeat. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes, I want to see you in it. Of course I want to see you in it." Who wouldn't?

Before he could think of any possible consequences for his frank words, Emily had pulled him into a deep kiss. Any inhibitions fast slipping away, Hotch groaned into her mouth and brought his hands up to cup her face, their tongues plunging inside and tangling together in an impassioned dance over power and lust and long-denied desire. Emily tasted of peppermint and cream and German chocolate, of Christmas, and it was the most glorious flavor he had ever tasted.

Emily grinned against his lips, the sweet feeling of victory rising up in her. She bit his bottom lip before pulling away for oxygen. She was about to move back in for another mind-blowing kiss when Hotch stopped her.

"What are we doing?" he panted, his palms still cupping her face.

Emily shook her head at his question, trying in vain to steady her breathing. "Don't you see? Everyone has someone to go home to for Christmas. Derek has that cute redhead from accounting. Not only that, but he has his sisters and his mothers as well. JJ has Will and Henry. Garcia has Kevin. Reid has his mom…hell, he even reconnected with that girl he met a while back, Austin. Dave…I don't know about him. But you…you could be at home with Jack. Why aren't you?"

Hotch gazed at her for a long time before answering. "He took a trip to Canada with his grandparents for the week. He's having a blast," he said quietly.

"That's what I mean." Emily's hands came up to caress his handsome face, just as he was doing to her.

Hotch's lips formed a thin line as he looked into her dazed eyes. "You are drunk," he murmured.

She clucked in disappointment. "Can you keep a secret, Hotch?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I get horny when I'm drunk," she revealed, a ridiculously beautiful smirk playing at her lips. "I'm really horny right now. Do the math," she breathed. "Just one look at you and my panties were soaked through." Hotch bit back a groan, the front of his pants becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "You're lonely, I'm lonely…and I want to put this little number to good use," Emily repeated, waving the negligee in front of his glazed-over eyes. "Will you let me?" she asked, pouting almost innocently.

Before he could even grind out a gritty "yes," Emily had risen to her feet and was stripping off her dress. She'd gone bra-less, a fact that hit Hotch square in the chest as Emily's dress soon fell to her feet in an emerald green pool of silk, leaving her bare…just for him.

"What do you think, Hotch?" she asked sultrily, running a single finger down his chest. "Do you want me naked, or do you want me in chiffon and lace?"

Hotch actually growled, low in his throat. "Put it on," he ordered, his eyes smoldering, his voice rough.

Emily rewarded him with a dazzling smile. "Yes, sir." Tendrils of her midnight hair cascading over her shoulders and teasing her breasts, Emily kept her gaze on him as she tossed her hair to the side and slowly, tantalizingly slowly, pulled the negligee over her svelte frame. She couldn't help but smile at the feel of the soft material against her equally soft skin.

She looked good. Hotch clenched his fists around the arms of his desk chair, his nails digging into his skin. He wanted so badly to reach forward and grab her and make her his…but the wait? The wait was half the fun.

Emily cocked her head to the side, smirking at the internal struggle that wasn't as internal as he thought; his face was contorted in repressed desire, and he was peering at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his breathing hard. "Go ahead, Hotch. You know you want to," she purred, licking her lips and smiling as she saw his gaze follow the path of her tongue. "Touch me."

A mere second passed before Hotch did just that, pulling her roughly onto his lap and moaning unabashedly as her lace-clad center came to rest over his already rock hard erection. Emily had just begun rocking her hips wantonly over his to tease him when his lips fell to the hill of her breasts, sucking and biting every inch of creamy skin that was exposed to him. Only one thing on his mind now, Hotch reached between their bodies and grabbed her black, barely-there lace panties in one fist, dragging them down her legs until they fell to the floor.

Hotch gazed at her, panting desperately. "You're still wearing your heels," he noted, his cock twitching at the sight.

Emily raised an eyebrow, letting her lips flirt against the corner of his. "I am. Want me to take them off?"

"No."

"That's what I thought." It seemed as if Emily had more to say, but any further banter was cut short as two long, wide fingers invaded her tight channel, stretching her deliciously. "Oh," she gasped. "Hotch."

"You like that?" he grumbled, pumping his fingers in and out of her slick core, gradually increasing his speed and rubbing against her clit with the pad of his roughened thumb with every inward pass. "Tell me you like it, Emily."

Emily threw her head back as he added yet another finger. "Yes," she breathed out, her eyes already beginning to glaze over. "Yes, yes, yes…oh…faster," she ordered, bucking against him eagerly.

"Faster? You sure?" he smirked, momentarily slowing his pace.

"Don't fuck with me," Emily bit out in response, her voice dangerously heavy with lust.

"I thought that's what you wanted." Hotch let the words sink in for less than a second before cupping his hands underneath her ass and lifting her up, her long legs immediately curling around his waist for support. With her in his arms, he walked them backwards until her back hit his wall. "Want me to fuck you right here?" he taunted. There was just something about the situation that necessitated dirty talking…and he had to admit, hearing such words fall from Emily's full red lips turned him on.

Her burning gaze latched onto his. Emily knew it would be like this; two alpha personalities locked in the same room, with nothing to do but each other. Hotch wasn't about to relinquish his control…but then again, neither was she. Only one thought was running through her mind as the blunt head of his thick shaft began pushing at her entrance.

Their coupling was surely going to be explosive.

"Why in God's name are you still not naked?" she practically cried, her voice low and throaty.

He chuckled into the hollow of her throat. "Patience, Emily," he chided. But nonetheless, he helped her rid him of his pants, her frantic fingers moving next to the buttons of his shirt and exposing his chest to her eager lips. "Fuck," he bit out as she palmed him through his boxers. "I don't have a condom."

"Hmmm?" A groan rattled around in the back of Hotch's throat as Emily robbed him of that final layer between them. "I'm on the pill. I'm clean, you're clean. Besides…I like riding bareback." She licked her lips saucily. "I don't care where you fuck me, as long as you do it now," she finally ground out in answer, nipping at his collarbone.

"Yes, ma'am," Hotch mocked. And then, in one sure, steamy stroke, he surged forward, hissing as he fused them together as deep and carnally as possible.

~.~.~

Emily immediately bit down on Hotch's shoulder as he filled her willing body, almost beyond her limit. For a second, she even thought she tasted blood, but she couldn't care less.

She'd make it up to him, anyway.

Running his large hands over Emily's lace-covered waist, Hotch pummeled into her hard, urged on by her constant pleas for "more, oh, Hotch, faster…harder…yes! right there…" He watched with darkened eyes as her breasts swung back and forth with each vicious drive of his cock into her tight heat, her swollen, dusky nipples rucking beneath the red sheen of chiffon.

Emily let out a shout as he pulled the lingerie down, immediately shaping his lips around one aching nipple and sucking hard. Coupled with his thick member ramming against her clit each time, a maelstrom of sensation flared up her spine and spiraled deep into her core, nearly sending her into sensory overdrive. "Shit, that feels so good," she panted, tossing her head back in ecstasy and hitting the wall in result. She barely noticed the pain, however; there were other pressing matters at hand.

"Come on, baby," Hotch snarled, his thrusts becoming impossibly faster. It had been much too long for both of them, so it came as no surprise when the familiar tension began coiling deep in his belly. "Fuck, you look so gorgeous," he said, his eyes rolling back in his head.

And she did, with her mussed up, tousled hair, her flushed cheeks, her lashes casting shadows against her high cheekbones in the dim lighting of his office. And the negligee. Good Lord, she looked perfect in it.

Emily grinned up at him at the compliment. "You're not so bad yourself, Mister," she replied cheekily. "In fact - oh!" Her arms immediately tightened around his neck as he lifted her higher and righted his grip on her ass, digging his nails into the supple skin he found there. The slightly different, crooked position proved even more pleasurable, and Emily let him drill her harder and harder, gladly taking in every steely inch he had to offer.

Hotch's breathing became shallow as he gazed at her, unable to look anywhere else but into her glassy eyes. He felt Emily's walls gripping his cock, holding him in like a vice, and his thrusting became unrestrained, unhinged in result. All inhibitions thrown out the window, Emily fused her lips to Hotch's, clenched her thighs as the heat between her legs morphed into a roaring inferno. Letting go, finally, she let Hotch pound her over the edge, stars invading her vision as she was flung head-first into a sea of searing pleasure. He let himself go along with her with a roar, jetting his essence deep inside her body and roughly covering Emily's mouth with his hand as she screamed in sheer ecstasy.

Luckily for them, Christmas music was still blaring over the speakers, and no one heard as they let themselves tumble off the precipice of reality, rapidly hurtling towards paradise.

~.~.~

Emily was sliding down the wall, smoothing down the fabric of the negligee, when Hotch spoke.

"I'm not done with you yet, Emily."

Emily arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, the action soon followed by a sly, wicked smile. "Who said I was done with you?" she countered saucily, approaching him with slow, calculated steps. He was seated now on his couch, his darkly handsome face lax with contentment. She chuckled as the intensity of his gaze increased as she neared. "Like what you see?" she taunted, still somewhat breathless.

Hotch took the opportunity to drink her in, his lips parting slightly as he took note of the dark shadow between her thighs, beneath the lace. Words failing him, his gaze travelled upward and was caught by the sight of her glorious, perfect-sized breasts. She was stunning; enchanting, really.

She looked sinfully good.

He felt his pulse skyrocket as Emily hitched a long leg over his hip, straddling his seated form. "You haven't answered me," she noted, pressing every curve of her body against his. "Do you like what you see?" she repeated, the perfumed scent of her warm body gradually eroding his control.

Hotch's voice had deepened when he finally responded. "How couldn't I?" he growled lowly, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. "You're a vision in red. In anything." Their gazes still locked, he slowly peeled the negligee off of her. "In nothing, too."

Feeling her cheeks begin to heat, Emily gave him her most beautiful smile before lowering her head for an erotic kiss, sighing in pleasure as his tongue came out to explore the warm, wet confines of her tempting mouth.

Not about to let him control the coupling like the previous time, Emily tangled her tongue with his in a sensual dance, simultaneously fighting for dominance and heating his blood to the point of boiling.

Right when sweat began dripping down Hotch's brow and he was sure the heated kiss would render him insane, Emily pulled away, smirking as the undeniable evidence of his arousal began pulsing against her thigh. She slowly pumped him a couple times, her small, soft hand elegantly enfolding him and bringing him to full mast. Without even one word spoken between them, she aligned him to her core…

…and in one piston of his hips, he made them one once more.

"So beautiful," Hotch breathed reverently, watching Emily's face tighten and contort in ecstasy as her pussy convulsed around him, once again gladly accepting his welcome intrusion.

Emily couldn't help it; her skin shivered beneath his touch and the tenderness in his voice. Sure, he had given her the reigns of control this time, but she still was rendered helpless every time their similarly dark-eyed gazes met.

Hotch began the torturously pleasurable drive of his cock into her tight heat once more, earning him a lusty cry against his mouth that he eagerly swallowed. Cupping her slender neck with one gun-coarse palm, he drew her closer, claiming her lips in a soft, sweet kiss that quickly morphed into something more ravenous, something more wild.

The smell of sex and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, Hotch groaned as he felt the pressure building up within him much too soon. He loved the sight of Emily hovering over him, panting and whimpering into his ear as she canted her hips forward. Her breasts were at the perfect level for his mouth, and with one hard tug of his lips against a beautifully rucked nipple, he had her a aching deliciously and desperate for release.

"Hotch…Aaron, I'm so close," she managed, her eyes unfocused.

That was all the warning he needed. Promises of submission be damned, he flipped them over and draped the entire length of her body over his couch, smirking as Emily whimpered when their lustful connection was lost. He covered her body with his, meshing their limbs together and reconnecting them as Emily's breathing became shallow.

"Aaron," she keened, stretched out beneath him wonderfully, her body just begging to embrace his. "I'm…I'm…yes! God, yes!"

He roared as she orgasmed around him, and pulled out of her immediately only to slam back in and draw a third, immensely powerful release from the incredible woman before him.

"Emily!" he bit out, burying his face between her luscious breasts. If he had it his way, a lifetime could go by and he wouldn't move from the position he was in.

Not a minute passed before he had emptied himself into her once more, his head dizzy with sated desire.

~.~.~

"This can only be a one-night thing, you know," Hotch said softly, regrettably, coming down from his high and coaxing Emily down from hers.

She nodded, her lips hunting across his face in the process. "Hell of a good one-night thing," she murmured.

"Emily…"

"But I know the drill." Emily managed to shoot him a smile as she rolled off his chest. "You enjoy your toffee," she said, slipping her dress back on and gathering the negligee in her hands.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he worked at his belt and pulled his pants back on, smoothing the creases out carefully. "I will," he promised. "Enjoy your chocolate."

Her smile grew at that. "I will. Merry Christmas, Hotch," she wished, shooting him a wink.

Hotch chuckled at the stunning brunette standing before him. "Merry Christmas, Emily." She was reaching for his door when Hotch called out to stop her. "Hey, wait." He bent down to pick something off the floor. "You forgot this."

In his hand were her black lace panties.

She let out a single, husky laugh before licking her lips. "Keep it."

Hotch stepped forward until they were less than a foot apart. "Thanks, I think." He slipped the panties in his jacket pocket, smiling to himself. "You know…" his hand reached forward to rest on her arm, a sigh slipping past his lips, "maybe...maybe it doesn't have to be a one-night thing. Either way, the night is still young."

Slowly, a smile touched Emily's lips. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine is closer." He grinned darkly as he took her hand in his and caressed her skin with his thumb. "Santa's not done with you yet."

And he wouldn't be done for a long time, even long after the midnight oil had been burnt.


End file.
